Stowaways
by Lascivious Intent
Summary: Jeptha Pryor has decided to leave his life of pirating and decided on a more domestic life, but he didn't know that love might be in the cards.


Disclaimed: I own no rights to the characters, places or world of Stardust.

Stowaways

Jeptha Pryor stepped off the gangplank onto the Ironcloud Airdock, hoisting the rucksack off his shoulder and dropping it hard on the wood deck. He paused, eyeing the flood of people moving in every direction across the transfer platform. Greatcoats, bustles, leather jerkins, uniforms.

He'd seen the freighter _Impervious_ berthed on the far side of the tower, but the sheer number of passengers disembarking from, and embarking upon the airship was a surprise to him. Spying the dock warden, Jeptha lifted his pack back onto his back and sallied forth.

"I'm 'orry miss," The dock warden said, speaking to a young woman beside the gangplank. Passengers moved past him, each handing him the small brass token marked with the crest of the Stormhold Transportaion Bureau. The woman appeared despondent, and a little lost. She might have been eighteen years of age, Jeptha thought, but if so, she was only just.

"But good sir, I simply have to get on that transport," She pleaded.

"No token," He said, half listening to her as he collected passes from person after person, marking each off in a leather bound ledger. "STB regulations 'm afraid."

"Are there no rooms left?" Jeptha inquired of the man, becoming concerned himself.

"Ah, n'ere a one," the bushy whiskered warden grunted. The last of the passengers trailed onto the gangplank.

The young woman looked up into Jeptha's eyes. Her features were very soft and beautiful, her curly auburn hair trailing down her back and shoulders where it intermingled with the softly worn pale blue cotton of her peasant dress. She wore the top above her shoulders, revealing little, bound around her middle with a leather bodice, criss-cross tied at the front that appeared very utilitarian in style. She had a small boutonnière of wild flowers on her breast, a satchel in her hand, and a rectangular suitcase at her heel. She was the very picture of a good, simple girl bound to parts unknown.

"By my, word," she said turning to Jeptha, "How can there be no room on such a large airship?"

Jeptha, sensing her humble background, assumed she probably had never been on such a liner as the _Impervious_, whose equipment stores took up nearly a quarter of the vessel's hull. Jeptha himself had only left to sail a year earlier at an age to rival hers with probably little more knowledge of the world than her.

"Sir, I myself am seeking transport on the _Impervious_, can we not bunk in the store? Surely there is a corner or a niche to fit two so fair as us? I can pay,"

"If you please," the man began with waning patience "Gold or no, wi'out a token, 'eres no pass on the ship. I dunna make the rules."

"Please," the young woman pleaded, taking a small pale white petaled flower with black tips from her boutonnière and handing to the man. The man's features softened and he stared at the two.

"Aw, 'ere, 'is would look much better in your 'air," and he slid the flower in the crux at the top of her right ear. "The two a ya can 'ead in to the reserve rope locker, jus' neither 'o ya make n'ere a peep 'til we reach Stormhold, a'right?"

Jeptha and the young woman both nodded, and he waved for them to proceed. Jeptha immediately reached down to carry the lady's suitcase for her. She smiled timidly, and walked up the ramp before him. In the last year that Jeptha had been hunting lighting in the clouds, he hadn't once seen a woman, and he positively melted at the sight at this pretty lass. He felt it his duty to make sure she made it to her destination securely, and thus he followed her to their accommodations.

As it turned out, the reserve rope locker was a fair sized room nearly fifteen feet square with a small porthole in the wall for light. The dock warden explained that they would probably not be disturbed by any of the crew, as the locker was rarely used except in heavy storms, and the predictions had been that the day's journey to Stormhold would be smooth flying. Jeptha and the young girl smiled uncomfortably at one another and each claimed a bundle of ropes on opposite sides of the room.

"My name is Jeptha," he said suddenly, breaking the silence. "Jeptha Pryor."

"I am Sophronia Smithwright," she replied. "This is my first trip on an airship."

"Is it?" Jeptha responded. "I've been 'asail for the last year. I'm ready to get my feet back on the ground. Where are you off to?"

Sophronia sat down on the rope bundle and straightened the skirt of her cotton dress. The position heaved her small breasts upward, making them far more pronounced than before. Jeptha glanced away immediately, but Sophronia smiled amid flush cheeks.

"My parents are sending me off to live with my aunt," She explained softly. "They feel that the opportunities in my town, Beatrice Hollow, are a little sparse, and my aunt, she's a Lady in the court of the Lord of Stormhold. They've asked her to educate me as a lady, such that I might marry to a higher station,"

"I see," Jeptha replied, sitting upon his own bundle of ship rope. "I heard rumors that the Lord's sons have been succumbing to tragic ends. I've even heard rumors for fratricide,"

She bit her lip a little and glanced back. "I'm sorry, I don't know what 'fratricide' is?"

"Oh," Jeptha smiled. "It's when one is killed by their own brother,"

"I see," Sophronia said. "They have been decidedly unlucky. I believe Secundus, Quartus, Quintas and Sextus have all meet untimely demises, but I hadn't heard that any of their other brother had been responsible. Do you have any siblings?"

"No," Jeptha replied. "I'm an only child. My parent's died in a fire last year. That's why I left to join the airship, I thought it might be a good profession,"

"Is it?"

"Yes, but it's not for me. I like flying, I'm good at it, tending the lightning collectors, bottling the catch, but I just don't have a passion for it. You really have to have a passion for something if it keeps you from the world for so long."

They continued talking as the liner released its moorings and set sail. Soon the light in the room became very dim, but Jeptha produced a small oil lamp from his pack and they made dinner by the meager light. Jeptha offered an ample share of salted and cured meat, while Sophronia, for her part, offered up a quartet of fresh apples and a flask of mountain spring water which she'd filled that morning. At the end of the meal, Jeptha offered her a few draughts of his small Port flask, and she drank gingerly of the sweet wine, smiling, her pretty cheeks flushing again.

Their conversation ranged all over, but Sophronia seemed very interested in what Jeptha had seen during his travels. The young man rummaged through his rucksack and produced his journal. He moved, sitting beside her, and placed the lantern behind their heads, illuminating the pages of the tome. He read through the entries, and showed her the crude sketches and maps he'd made of the desperate locales his ship had traveled to. She smiled, keenly interested, and Jeptha noticed her looking into his eyes more and more with less and less inhibition in their hazel depths.

Jeptha stopped reading, paused for a moment, then leaned into Sophronia taking in the sweet smell of her hair and feeling the warm radiance of her bare neck.

She pulled away, timidly, but smiling.

"The Port...it's making me flush. Such a handsome sailor," she cooed. "Am I just another port lassie for your amusement?"

"Oh, oh no!" Jeptha responded, searching for words.

"I've have a mind to think you slipped the dock warden a few copper pence arrange this circumstance," She smiled. Jeptha was at first efronted a bit, but quickly realized she was having some fun with him.

"No," He resolved with a smile himself. "Truth be…um…truth be told…far from being the swashbuckling womanizer you've painted me to be…I've…well…I've never…"

"You've what?" She said with a smile and a giggle. She quickly covered her mouth and regained her composure.

"Don't laugh about it," He said, sullen.

"No," She smiled, glancing away timidly. "I just thought all you roughneck lighting pirates had a woman in every port."

"Far from it," He laughed. "It's not really like that,"

She reached up and caressed his face, smiling sweetly, still barely able to meet his gaze.

"I never have either," She whispered, biting her lower lip and grinning slightly, red cheeks like apples in September.

Jeptha leaned into her and they kissed. He tasted her sweet lips, and she his. His arms held her tight, her hands sliding through his hair, pulling his cap off and dropping it to the floor. His hands cupped her waist, embracing the tight leather of her bodice, feeling the slender firmness of her body.

"Oh…oh Jeptha," She moaned softly and their kiss subsided and his lips moved to her neck. "By the Lords of Stormhold…"

"You're so very pretty Sophronia," he gasped, intoxicated with her touch. "I've never seen your equal,"

"You make me feel such ways," She gasped. "Such naughty thoughts...not the thoughts of a good girl…I've always been such a good girl…oh Jeptha,"

His hands had slid up her torso and found her small breasts. He looked into her eyes, a look that made the request to proceed, to commence with what they'd started.

"I…oh Jeptha…I feel so far from home…like a different girl…like…like a woman," She mumbled, biting her lip again. He began to untie her bodice, and she pulled on his shirt and jacket, over his head and casting the pair to the floor beside them. Jeptha untied what seemed an impossible number of loops and released the prison about her breasts, then softly pulled her top down past her shoulders. She contorted, pulling her arms from her sleeves and allowed him to drop the dress further, exposing her soft cleavage, her pale skin glowing orange in the lamplight.

Soft and sweet, her breasts shone warmly, the pink nubs hard from his rubbing, her chest heaving slightly from excitement. Jeptha kissed her and she gasped, he tasted her nipples and she giggled. She was so pretty, so warm, so soft. Jeptha had felt nothing like it and he was ravenous to touch and kiss every inch of her delicateness. Soon, the two stood, and she helped him out of his trousers just before he helped her drop the dress to the floor. For a moment the two stared at one another, his slender, muscular form forged from months aboard ship, his manhood, firm and ready; her soft supple curves, untouched by man, the soft auburn patch of silky hair between her legs glistening with wetness in the dim light.

Jeptha pulled a blanket from his pack, spread it out on the nearest rope bundle and lovingly laid his Sophronia down upon their bed. They continued to kiss and explore. His fingers fumbled about her slit, tickling her forest. She in turn grasped him, squeezing tightly, two of her fists unable to cover his length. Jeptha hoped that she might take him into her mouth, he'd heard tale of that from his shipmates, but she did not. He figured she was young, that might come with time. Regardless, he was eager to be inside her. While kissing her, he moved into position between her legs, spreading them just enough that he could see the red tinged sliver between.

"Please, Jeptha," Sophronia said breaking their kiss, a slightly worried look on her face. "Please be gentle with me,"

Jeptha smiled earnestly and said "I will,"

As he entered her she gripped the back of his neck tightly, whimpering like a child having a deep splinter removed from her finger. She was so tight, barely willing to allow him within, but warm…so very warm, with each inch…so warm. He pushed deeper.

"By the Lords…" She moaned and gasped. "Oh Jeptha,"

"Oh Sophronia," He replied.

Holding her firmly in his arms he took her, their bodies writhing softly, back and forth. She continued to grimaced and whimper but when he would stop she would whisper in his ear to keep going, to love her. Jeptha's own pleasure was intense. The feeling of filling her, the thought of her parted legs welcoming him into her with an earnest hunger was exquisite. After a time he quickened his pace, and her whimpering turned to a heavy breathing. Her fingers trailed down his back, gripping his rear, feeling his flexing muscles with each thrust.

Her moans turned to pleas, pleas for more, harder, deeper. Jeptha accommodated, stabbing himself into her wetness with abandon. He kissed her breasts, tasted her cleavage, nibbled at her neck. Then they kissed again. He felt the hunger in her mouth, an insatiate need for him. He couldn't believe the passion in her embrace, and he thrust all the harder.

"Oh…my love," She gasped suddenly. "Let me on top, I want to feel what it is like to take _you_,"

Jeptha complied, their joined form rolling in the bed, position her astride him without losing their deep, warm connection. She smiled prettily, her auburn hair cascading down her shoulders. She closed her eyes, bit her lips and her pelvis set to bobbing up and down upon his member. He gripped her hips, the rotation of her hips grinding him into her depths. It was amazing. Sophronia grasped his wrists, pulling them off her, and positioning them over his head, pinning then to the rope bundle. She smiled mischievously and set to riding him all the harder, all the faster, lifting up in the air and ramming herself down upon him, impaling her wetness on his hard flesh.

Jeptha gasped and lay back, closing his eyes. It was incredible, and he felt he orgasm coming. For a brief moment he considered stopping her, asking her to sit aside when it happened so they could not risk a pregnancy, but in the next moment, Jeptha realized that he would do anything to explode inside her, he would marry her, he would bear children with her, he would die for her…anything so long as in this moment he could empty his organ deep inside her.

"Yessss…so close," he heard her say. "Give it to me Jeptha, give me your virgin seed, by the Gods give it to me,"

He exploded, the orgasm ripping through him, the raw pleasure tearing through his nervous system to the very tips of his being. His warmpth intermingling with her's, cascading about his flesh buried so deep in her embrace.

"That's it…fill me Jeptha…yesssss…fill me with your virgin seed…"

The pleasure was so intense, so incredible it almost hurt, was almost a painful rush seeping from his loins. Then it _was_ pain, Jeptha realized, a sharp, burning agony. Jeptha opened his eyes to see a cascade of black hair adorning pale alabaster shoulders. When he focused, it was not hazel eyes and pink lips before him, no, Sophronia stared down at him with eyes of polished onyx, deep and solid black, past lips of the darkest pitch, framing white teeth gripped in a gleeful smile. Past her shoulder, Jeptha saw a forked tale, shimmering of black scales, curl forward.

Jeptha tried to move, but her grip was amazingly strong. He suddenly realized that her tail had shot down and wound itself around his ankles. He was trapped, he couldn't move at all. Sharp nails dug into his wrists, and the intense pain leaking out of his loins was growing worse.

"That's it my pet," The creature said through her black lips. "Give it up, give me all your virgin essence,"

She continued to grind at his member, fucking him and milking him of his life essence. He tried to scream, tried to say something, anything, but he couldn't. He couldn't draw enough breath to form words. The tips of his fingers and toes felt cold, they tingled as if robbed of blood.

"Yes…oh you tasty treat yessssss!" She moaned in what could only have been an orgasmic ecstasy. She closed her eyes, reared back, pale breasts with black nipples bobbing as her form rammed against his body, His essence poured into her as she came, the climax filling her being with a warmth and pleasure she could not herself attain alone. She opened her mouth and a hot steam issued forth, her legs tensing, her grip a vice. Her body slowed, drawing the last few precious ounces from him as her climax subsided.

Finished, the Morrigan Witch looked down. The body that had been Jeptha Pryor was a dry, shriveled carapace in morphology of tanned leather stretched over old bones. Sophronia withdrew from the dark embrace slowly, releasing his legs and arms and standing up, the lucid pallor of her ashen skin shimmering in the lamplight. She was much taller than her guise had been, standing six and a half feet, with black tendrils of hair curling down her back, almost to the point just above her rear where the jet scaled tail began. Sharp black nails tipped her fingers, stark, pointed black nipples corwning her breasts, and curly black hair at the cleft between her legs through which she'd absorbed the man's life essence only moments earlier, shone glistening in the lantern light.

Echoes of the sensuous cascade of her orgasm still coursed through her body, giving her strength. It wasn't as good a finding a Star and consuming it, but a fresh virgin was always a good pick-me-up, she thought. Shape shifting was taxing, but if she could claim such a prize it would fuel her magic for months to come.

She'd come to know that Ironcloud was a singularly opportunistic waypoint to feast on unwary travelers, although she had not dreamed to be so lucky. Still naked, she knelt over his packs and rummaged through them, finding a small leather purse with the poor lad's earnings for the year. A good little sum. She'd really shot the moon this time, she thought; a virgin, young and virile, with a stash of gold and no family or fraternal ties to avenge his passing.

She took the purse and opened her own suitcase, placing it inside. She thought on her exit strategy, she could simply use a Babylon Candle to whisk herself away to her final destination, or she could deal with the situation directly. As she only had two of the dark artifacts remaining, she decided not to risk getting stranded if there were a complication.

Opening the porthole, the Morrigan Witch pushed the dried husk of Jeptha Pryor out to fall, forgotten far below. His belongings followed, and then woman-creature closed the porthole again. She returned to the bed and lay, open legged, upon it, still able to smell him in the air. Her fingers trailed through her black forest of pubic hair and her memory dwelled on the delicious orgasm, reliving it again and again in her mind.

The morning came and the dock warden's assistant knocked on the reserve rope locker door. It opened, and the small auburn haired girl stood there in her pretty pale blue cotton dress.

"We've docked," the young man noted.

"Oh good," she said turning to grab her suitcase.

"Oh no milady, allow me," The young man rushed. He stopped "Where is your friend? The young man?"

"Young man?" Sophronia said with surprise.

"The dock warden said you'd 'ave a man in 'ere too,"

Sophronia reached into her boutonnière and pulled forth a small white petaled flower with black tips and handed it to the man.

"W'as this?" He said.

"Silly, why would I have a man in here?" Sophronia said softly. "I'm not that type...I'm a good girl."

"Right," said the assistant dock warden. "Of course, I'm not sure why I had that impression. Oh, here, I believe I brought this flower for you, it would look very beautiful in your hair, don't you think?"

He slid the flower inter her hair, just above her ear.

"Thank you my good sir," Sophronia said as they exited then room. "Is this_ Impervious'_ final stop for a while?"

"Actually yes," the man said leading her down the hall. "I'm quite looking forward to a bit 'o shore leave myself."

"Are you now?" Sophronia said biting her lip with a soft, pleasant smile and proceeded down the corridor.


End file.
